


*Insert Something Dramatic About Death Here*

by halfmermaid2426



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frank's kinda a dick sorry, Ghosts, MCR, Paranormal, my chemical romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:36:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfmermaid2426/pseuds/halfmermaid2426
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's dead, Gerard's dead, Frank wants revenge, etc, etc. I wrote this for my English class, at four in the morning on the day it was due. Enjoy.<br/>Also, sorry for the awkward no-homo, not-gay gayness going on. It was for an English assignment, so I tried to make it as not-gay as possible, which just ended up being the most stereotypical "Bro, if I was gay I would totally marry you, bro," shit possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	*Insert Something Dramatic About Death Here*

Frank was dead. He knew that for sure. He knew that he couldn’t have survived that car cash. His body was crushed, and he knew because he had felt it. He had felt his ribs crack and his lungs capsize. He had felt it when the glass from the shattered windshield pierced his skull, cutting him open and leaving his brain exposed to the debris-filled air. He was very, very dead, and very, very unhappy about it.   
Of all the things he had expected to happen that night, dying was not one of them. Car accidents were the kind of things you heard about in the news, or in those “don’t drink and drive” videos they show you in school. They happened, but they didn’t really happen. They never happened to anyone real, it seemed. They happened in distant places to distant people. Except for this once. This one time it was all too real.  
Frank knew he shouldn’t have tried to drive himself home. He had been completely wasted, but being a eighteen-year-old idiot, he hadn’t thought anything of it. His house was only ten minutes away from the house where the party was, so he thought there would be no issue. Obviously there was. He had obviously drank too much, because when he passed out at the wheel the next thing he remembered was waking up and seeing his body lying in the wreckage.   
He was there when they found his body, hopelessly watching. A bystander to the accident dialed 911, and the cops showed up, along with a bunch of EMTs, who declared him dead immediately. Instead of carting his body off to a hospital like Frank wished they were able to, they took it straight to the morgue. It was then that he tried to walk away. Until that moment he was frozen with shock, but that moment jolted him awake. He didn’t want to be there for that. He didn't want to see them load his body into one of the silver cold chambers, and he definitely didn’t want to be there when someone from his family came in to identify him. Frank only got so far before he was snapped back to the ambulance carrying what once was him. “What the hell?” Frank exclaimed. Sheepishly, he looked around, before remembering that no one could hear him. He laughed ruefully. Now that no one could hear him, he could curse all he wanted. But really, being pulled back to his body felt horrible. Not as horrible as dying in a horrific car crash, but it was quite horrible. The only thing Frank could compare it to was being severely hungover, combined with having all his atoms stretched and morphed. Not that his that’s ever happened to him, but it did that’s what it would have felt like.  
After Frank got over the initial effects of the teleportation, he took a moment to look at the sheet-covered mound before him. It was surreal, to see his own body. Of course, the actual body itself was covered, but Frank still knew it was him. He would have felt sick, if he was capable of feeling things like that anymore. Tentatively, he reached out a hand to pull the sheet down. He didn’t want to look for any specific reason; if anything he didn’t want to look at all, but morbid curiosity got the best of him. He grabbed the top of the sheet, pulling it down. Or at least, he tried to pull it down. Instead of feeling light like he had expected it to be, it was as if it weighed a whole ton. Frank looked at the sheet, puzzled. He tried again, this time exerting much more force than the first time. After several tries, he got the sheet to move down several inches, exposing the body. His face was surprisingly not very damaged, not like the rest of his body. There was a large gash across his cheekbone, and his face was spotted with blood from it. The only real damage to his head was hidden by his brown hair, which was sticky with blood. His eyes were closed, but Frank knew that underneath the pale eyelids they were the brown they had always been. Are my eyes still brown? Frank thought. A new jolt of worry shot through him. Do I even look like myself at all? He hurriedly looked down, as he hadn’t yet. At least, he hadn’t looked at himself with the intent of making sure everything was still there. He was semi relieved when he realized he appeared normal, not like some cartoon sheet-covered ghost. He was still wearing the ripped jeans he wore to the party, along with a black Misfits t-shirt. Frank shook his head. At least if anyone sees him as he is is in the afterlife, they’d know he had a good taste in music. He reached up to touch his face, gladly noticing that it was not torn up in this form as his physical body was. As a ghost Frank still looked like himself, even the things that weren’t necessarily a physical part of him, like his lip ring.  
Frank looked back at the body with distaste. It wasn’t him. It was a hollow shell that used to be him. He would have covered its face back up with the sheet, but he wasn’t sure if he had the energy left to do so. He instead turned his head away from it. If one thing in his mind was certain, it was that he didn’t want to be there. He stood up, determined. He was going to get out. Ghosts in the movies could do a lot of things, and one of those things was passing through walls. He knew he could do it. He reached out his hands towards the wall of the vehicle. Closing his eyes tightly, he slowly inched his hands forward. He was almost there, then...he touched the wall. It felt solid. Frank opened his eyes, wide with disbelief. Angrily, he slammed into the wall several times. Still nothing. He could no more go through solid objects when he was dead than he could when he was living.  
Giving up, he sat on the floor. He hated being dead. It was unpleasant, he couldn’t fly or walk through walls, and it seemed he was tethered to his body. Frank hoped this didn’t mean that he would be buried with it...what a horrible way to spend eternity, buried in a coffin with your own rotting corpse. He buried his face in his hands, trying to tune out the world. It was all too much for him. He was still covering his face when slowly, he sank through the floor of the EMS vehicle, landing on the highway below. He almost didn’t notice, until a car drove straight through him. “What the f…” Frank started to say, before he was whisked back onto the moving ambulance.  
Frank felt queasy. He wasn’t sure how he felt that, seeing as he no longer had a body, but he did. It was the second time in under ten minutes that that had happened to him, and it sucked. It felt worse than the first time, too, like he was simultaneously hungover, had the flu, and was being sucked into a black hole. While spinning rapidly. After regaining his thoughts, he sat down again, this time willing himself to stay inside the vehicle. He definitely didn’t want to go a third round with whatever that was.  
He settled down, curling into a ball on the floor. He knew he couldn’t do anything about the situation yet, so he decided he would at least try to get some rest. As he soon found out, he could no longer sleep, but if he tried really hard, he could pretend to. In that moment, it was enough.

. . . . .

Not many people ever get to go to their own funeral. Despite this opportunity, Frank was on the opposite end of the small graveyard when his was happening. He didn’t want to be there to see people talk about how great he was, when in actuality he really wasn’t. He especially didn’t want to be there to see anyone cry. He would have left the cemetery entirely, but instead he was sitting against a maple tree, trying to ignore the funeral going on behind him. It seemed that whatever powers binding him to his body limited him to stay inside the fence surrounding the graveyard. It was absolutely ridiculous. There wasn’t much to do inside a graveyard, and Frank was bored out of his mind.   
It was about a week after Frank’s death. He wished it would have been quicker, but the morticians had a rough time making his body pretty enough to be shown at the funeral. Frank would know. He had to be there for it. He had to sit in silence while they drained the blood from his body, replacing it with embalming fluid. Then he had to see them inject the body with dye to make it look healthier, and glue his eyes and mouth shut to prevent them falling open. After that there was all the patching and sewing and reshaping needed to make it look like he had died in his sleep, not from being crushed to death by ramming into another car while driving at 70 mph. It was downright embarrassing, not to mention disgusting.  
Frank groaned. From across the cemetery, he could hear the officiator of the funeral lead the small group of mourners in a prayer. He wasn’t even religious; why did his parents think it was a good idea to get some guy from their church come in and talk about a god Frank didn’t believe in, and a heaven that he definitely didn’t go to? He almost got up and went over there to see if they were screwing anything else up, but then he thought better of it. He was already in enough emotional pain dealing with his own death, he didn’t need the weight of seeing everybody else’s pain as well. He sighed deeply. Nothing he had experienced in life could have prepared him for his death.  
“You alright?”  
Frank jumped, turning to see a boy standing near him. Frank had no idea how he hadn’t heard his approach, especially with all the fallen leaves littering the ground, making every footstep crunchy and loud. Despite the creepy silence of the boy, he actually looked like someone Frank would have liked to hang out with in life. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, with scuffed converse. His black hair was messy and falling into his eyes, and his skin was so pale as to be translucent. Once Frank got over the initial surprise of someone being able to see and acknowledge him, he realized how “ghostly” this newcomer looked. At least, he looked a lot more dead than Frank did.  
“I’m gonna assume that you’re dead, too?” Frank inquired, cocking his head slightly as he waited for the answer that he already knew.  
“No, I’m perfectly healthy and living. I just like to hang out in graveyards in the middle of the day for no flipping reason,” He said sarcastically. Sitting down next to Frank, he continued with, “Well, since you’re not gonna answer my first question, will you at least tell me your name? We’re gonna be here for a long time, man, might as well get to know each other.”  
“Oh, um, my name’s Frank...what’s yours?”  
He grinned. “I’m Gerard. So why are you upset?”  
Frank gave him a withering glare. “Maybe ‘cause I’m dead. There’s not much to be happy about in this situation.”  
“No, that’s not it. And if that’s it you’re boring, and I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Come on, spit it out--what’s the real reason?”  
Frank glared at him even harder, refusing to answer.  
“Fine,” Gerard replied, shrugging. “Don’t answer. And it’s a good thing looks can’t actually kill...I’m not sure what happens when a ghost dies, but I know I don’t wanna find out.”  
Frank crossed his arms, still refusing to answer. Gerard took this as his cue to keep talking. “See, I’ve been thinking about that whole thing. You know, ghosts dying. It’s got to be possible. Like, what happens if someone gets exorcised? They're obviously not alive anymore, but were they really alive in the first place? I mean, we’re not alive anymore, but are we dead? By most definitions, yes, but I don’t feel very dead, I feel--”  
“Would you SHUT UP?” Frank snapped, standing up. “I am not in the mood!”   
Gerard stood up with him, soon realizing that he towered over Frank. “What are you, 4’9”?” He laughed. “My mother is taller than you!”  
“You know what? Eff off.” Frank said, walking away. Despite the fact that under the tree was the only place in the cemetery that he actually liked, he wasn’t going to spend another second with that overbearing lampshade. To think that when Frank first saw him, he thought that he’d looked “cool”. Ugh. “And I’m 5’6”!” He called over his shoulder angrily.   
Gerard stood there quietly, watching him leave. Suddenly an idea came to him. Grinning wolfishly, he started to enact his plan. “I'd've thought someone wearing a Misfits shirt would be a lot cooler than this, Frankie, unless...maybe you’re just like one of those teenage girls that wear band shirts without actually listening to the band. I bet you don’t even like the Misfits…” He drawled, watching the other boy for a reaction.  
Frank stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned around. “Are you implying that I’m a poser?” He seethed.  
“That’s exactly what I’m implying,” Gerard said, grinning. His plan succeeded, he had gotten a reaction.  
Before Gerard could think of anything else to say to him, Frank tackled him to the ground. “What the--OW!” Gerard yelled. Frank had punched him square in the jaw, and seeing as Gerard hadn’t been punched in years (surprisingly), it caught him off guard.  
Frank pinned him down in the leaves, not punching him again, but not letting him up either. “I literally died one week ago, Gerard. I’m a little bit angry. And then you come along? I had no patience for people like you in life, and I have no patience for people like you now,” He spat. “If you wanna know why I’m on edge today, it’s ‘cause my flipping funeral is happening as we speak, and I can’t say anything to anyone there, I can’t even say “goodbye”, or “I’m sorry”. So you can screw off and never speak to me again. Got it?”  
Gerard didn’t reply. He knew that the newly deceased could be a little bit...testy, but this? He had barely talked to him at all, and he was already throwing punches. Gerard had only been dead for around a decade, but he had heard stories from some of the graveyard’s other residents. Some people, especially people that were unstable in life, could sometimes turn dark after they died. When that happened, it could get ugly.  
Frank thumped Gerard’s chest. Not as hard as when he punched him, but hard enough to leave a bruise nonetheless. “Got it?” He asked again. Gerard nodded, and Frank got up. “And don’t call me Frankie,” He added. 

. . . . .

Frank couldn’t stop thinking about the accident. The crash wasn’t even his fault. Yeah, he was a little bit intoxicated, but it was a Friday night. Who wasn’t? It was so strange that he had passed out; usually Frank could drink his weight in beer and still be nearly sober. Unless...it hadn’t been the beer.  
His stomach dropped to his feet with the realization. Someone had drugged him. Somebody had put something in one of his drinks, and whatever it was was what caused him to pass out, and subsequently crash the car. He put it out of his mind, hoping to get rid of the red and black feeling welling up in his chest.  
It was a couple of weeks after the funeral, and Frank was under the maple tree again. It was odd, he hadn’t seen any other ghosts besides Gerard, and Gerard left just like Frank had told him to on that first day. Maybe there was some way for them to leave the cemetery. Frank felt himself growing angry as he thought about it. Why would they be allowed to leave, but Frank couldn’t? Who the hell was in charge of this stuff? Why was everything so goddamn unfair?  
And then there was the other question, the big one; Why did Frank die, and why did someone think it was a great idea to drug him? Where was the justice? The more Frank thought of it, the more he realized that he knew who it was. There was this kid, Mikey Way, a real awkward guy, with glasses and an atrocious haircut. He was a pretty weird kid, but he shared a lot of the same interests as Frank did which is what put them together. Frank had seen him messing with Frank’s beer when Frank left it unattended, but he had assumed MIkey had mistook the drink for his. Now, though, Frank knew what had actually happened. That’s when Frank realized: Mikey had acted in revenge. Nearly a year before, Frank had done something he shouldn’t had done, something horrible, to Mikey’s girlfriend. It was pretty ironic, if you thought about it, the way Mikey had chosen to get his revenge. Actually, the kid had probably planned it that way. It was so unfair.  
Frank slammed the ground with the side of his fist, gasping once it hit. He cradled his hand to his chest, cursing. Why did things till hurt him? He was literally dead. He didn’t have nerves or anything, and he probably shouldn’t have even been solid. “Bloody Hell…” He murmured. Now that Frank knew who had gotten him killed, he could hardly think straight in his anger.  
Frank didn’t see the black-haired boy sitting a couple of feet away, watching him. Of course he didn’t. Gerard didn’t have to show himself if he didn’t want to, and why would he show himself when the last time he did he ended up getting punched? Frank apparently hadn’t figured out any of the abilities he had as a ghost yet, or at least how to harness them. He had fallen through the maple tree several times already, and at one point he went invisible. Quite obviously, though, Frank didn’t notice it, and he went back to normal within a couple of seconds.  
Gerard was fascinated by him. It wasn’t often that new people came to live in the cemetery, especially not young people. Or at least, people that died young. It got boring in the graveyard when the only other ghost that died around your age was from the 1700s. Gerard didn't have much in common with her at all. So Gerard was obviously immediately drawn to him, if only in the search of company. Plus, he was wearing a pretty awesome shirt. Gerard had just had to talk to him.  
Besides that, Gerard had never seen a spirit so driven by anger. True, Gerard hadn’t been dead long, but he had seen his fair share of the newly deceased. Most of them were fairly sad, a few of them were (for some reason) happy, and some just couldn’t care less either way. Then there was Frank. There was anger hidden in everything he did. Even when he was clearly sad, there was anger. That’s why Gerard was watching him. Frank would sometimes do funny things, thinking he was alone. He would sing or pretend to play guitar, and Gerard could tell that he was an actual guitar player, judging from the chords he mimed with his hands, Gerard had tried to play guitar once, but he just couldn’t get it. At least Gerard could sing, and he could draw pretty well when he was alive. He hadn’t been able to in the years that he was dead, though,  
The most interesting thing Frank did was talk to himself. From this Gerard learned that Frank had died in a car accident, and that he thought he had been drugged. Gerard was a little bit worried; the things Frank was muttering were not the kind of things you wanted to hear someone say. It was obvious he wanted revenge. Fortunately, ghosts seeking retribution was a thing only found in stories. No ghost had the power to manipulate anything in the real world, and most of them couldn’t even get far enough away from their body to target anyone anyway.  
Frank, thinking he was alone, stood up. He was sick of feeling like he couldn’t do anything, and that the other ghosts could. Frank wanted to do all those cool things ghosts were supposed to do, like fly or go through walls. Well, he knew he could pass through solid objects, but he didn’t know how to control it. Gerard scooted several feet away when he saw Frank stand up, not wanting Frank to accidently walk through him. That would have been awkward.  
Frank took a deep breath, and did the same thing he did that night on the ambulance, pushing both of his hands towards the tree. Unsurprisingly, they met the hard surface with a quiet thud. Frank concentrated on trying to will his hands through the rough bark, but again, nothing happened. He grew more and more frustrated as he tried again and again, but nothing happened. Yelling in anger, Frank punched the tree. Nothing happened at first, but then Frank did it again and again. Gerard watched wide-eyed as the tree began to tilt ever so slightly from the force of the blows. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Ghosts barely had the energy to move a pebble, much less a tree. No spirit that Gerard had ever known could do anything like that.  
Frank gave the tree one more kick, moving the tree another half an inch, then collapsed on the floor, exhausted. Gerard stared in shock, wondering how Frank could do that. He pledged to ask him later, but for right then Gerard was actually a bit scared. He knew Frank was a bit of a loose cannon, but when he was angry like that...Gerard didn’t want to risk it.

. . . . .

Gerard was going to do it. He was going to try and talk to Frank again. He was standing only a few feet behind the shorter boy, but Frank couldn’t see him. Taking a deep breath, Gerard made himself visible. “Frank?” He asked softly.   
Frank spun around, and stared at Gerard with suspicion, not saying anything.  
“Hey, man,” Gerard said. “I’m sorry about whatever I did to piss you off earlier. Just--just wanted you to know. I can--I can leave if you want me to.”  
Frank glared at him for a moment, but then his features softened. “It wasn’t you. I just felt so--so angry. You just happened to be there for it. Plus, I’m actually kind of glad you showed up. I was worried you would never talk to me again, and I’d be alone for eternity…”  
“Well. that’s a relief.” Gerard laughed. “I was under the impression that you hated me.”  
When Frank didn’t reply, Gerard hastily continued with,”Hey, you wanna see some different scenery? You only really seem to hang out by this tree…”  
At this Frank perked up. “You mean outside the graveyard? You know how to leave?” He asked excitedly.   
“Oh...no,” Gerard replied. “I just meant--I mean, my family’s lived here in Jersey forever, so we have this mausoleum...I wasn’t buried there, there wasn’t any room left, but the inside is pretty cool. There’s this secret room under this plaque thing...”  
Frank looked down, crestfallen. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds cool.”  
Gerard silently cursed at himself for making Frank so upset. He had only meant to cheer Frank up, not rub it in that he was dead and stuck there for eternity. At least, stuck in the general vicinity of the cemetery. With time, ghosts could learn to extend their barriers of where they can roam passed where they were buried, but that was information Frank didn’t need. He wouldn’t be able to go farther than the iron fence surrounding the graveyard yet, and the knowledge that someday he probably could would only make him more aggravated.  
“It’s this way…” Gerard said, beckoning Frank to follow him.  
As they walked, they gravestones became more and more dilapidated, and the dates became older and older.   
“You weren’t kidding about your family being here forever. This end of the graveyard is frickin’ old,” Frank said, kicking a small piece of a broken headstone out of his way.  
Gerard eyed the stone, trying not to draw attention to the fact that he was looking. That stone had been in the way for as long as he had been dead, and he had never been able to get it to move.  
“Yeah,” Gerard said, still thinking about Frank and the stone. “Yeah, I mean, one of my ancestors used to be here that died back in 1783, but they sort of faded out a few years ago…”  
“Hold up!” Frank stopped moving. “Faded out? The hell does that mean? He died?”  
“She sort of just...stopped being,” Gerard replied. “It happens to ghosts that have been around a while. Or maybe she just stopped having a purpose. That’s why we’re here, you know. We have some sort of ‘unfinished business’ to attend to. She probably took care of hers or something.”  
“Unfinished business…” Frank mused. “Do you know why you’re still here?” He asked Gerard.  
Gerard grinned. “Nah. I think the universe just screwed up with me, you know?”  
Frank frowned. “No, I don’t know. There’s gotta be a reason you’re here and not in heaven or hell or wherever else people are supposed to go after they die. Why haven’t you moved on?”  
The easy grin swept off of Gerard’s face. It was a topic he had thought a lot about in the time he was dead, and the answer never had come to him. He had no tragic story, no reason for revenge, or a lost love that he stayed on the Earth for. Actually, the only person he really loved was his brother, but Mikey had gotten over his death years before, and Gerard couldn’t remember the last time he had come to visit him in the cemetery. Not that Mikey knew his older brother was there watching him; the living could never see those that were dead.   
“No,” Gerard said, shaking his head, “There really is nothing. This world holds nothing for me. The real question is, why are you here? What’s your purpose?”  
Frank laughed ruefully. “I don’t know. To warn people not to drink and drive? Or to not piss people off enough to make them get revenge on you?”  
“Revenge? I thought you died in a car crash?” Gerard asked. He knew Frank thought he had been drugged, but he wanted to know the details Frank may not have let slip when he thought no one was listening.  
“Yeah, I did something crappy and this guy put something in my drink when I wasn’t paying attention. That’s what caused me to pass out while I was driving, which is how the crash happened. I mean, I probably deserved the whole “getting drugged” part, I appreciate irony enough to see that it was actually the best way to get me back for what I did, but I definitely didn’t deserve to die. It’s really unfair.”  
Gerard started to feel a little sick. “Why is it ironic that he drugged you, Frank?”  
At this Frank realized that he had said too much, and he tried to cover it up. “Oh,” He said, “It was just ironic because--because I used to have a problem with recreational drugs. So it was ironic that he gave me drugs against my will.”  
Gerard looked looked away. He didn’t believe Frank in the least, and if he had actually done what he had implied he did...well, there wasn’t much worse a person can do. It started to make sense to Gerard why some guy had wanted to get revenge.  
“How’d you die, anyway?” asked Frank to ease some of the tension.  
“I OD'd on sleeping pills,” Gerard replied. “Suicide. In retrospect, I really had no reason to do it. Teenage problems pass, death doesn’t. It’s too late now, though, so I try not to think about it too much.   
“Oh,” Frank replied. “Well, that...sucks?”  
Gerard wasn’t offended that Frank was at a loss for words. It wasn’t every day that someone told you that they killed themselves. “Yeah, but the whole “dying” part wasn’t really the worst part, if I’m gonna be honest. There are definitely worse things than death.”  
“Like what?” Frank asked.  
“Well, I was still alive when they found me. It was my brother. He was only, what, seven at the time? Yeah. That wasn’t something a seven year old needed to see; I mean, finding your nearly-dead big brother lying on the bathroom floor is something that messes people up, y’know?”  
“Hm,” Frank replied. “I’m an only child, I wouldn’t know about having a little brother like that. What was his name?”  
“His name is MIkey. He’s seventeen now. You would like him; he never let anyone hurt the people he loved.”  
“That’s funny,” Frank said. “The guy that killed me was named MIkey. I mean, I guess it’s a pretty common name, but still.”  
Gerard looked away, his eyebrows drawn in. “He didn’t kill you. You're mixing up the details. You died in a car crash--”  
“That he caused. If he hadn’t drugged me I would still be alive.”   
Gerard didn’t reply, but both of them could almost feel the tension crackling in the air. They walked in silence for a few more meters, when Gerard abruptly stopped. “Here we are. The mausoleum.”  
In front of them was a large stone building, with Way inscribed over the arched doorway. The stone was covered in plants that had grown over it due to lack of anyone caring enough to clean them up, but underneath the vines there seemed to be several designs carved into the walls. Gerard opened the wooden door, holding it open fro Frank. “After you,” He said, gesturing for Frank to enter,  
Frank stepped tentatively into the stone structure, looking around at the interior. There were rows of tombs flanking the walls, marked by plaques in various rates of decay. There were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and the small amount of light filtering from the small window illuminated air clogged with dust. “This is...nice…” Frank said, not wanting to insult Gerard.  
“No it’s not,” Gerard said, almost smiling. “It’s crappy, let's be real. The cool part is over here…” He walked over to the far wall of the mausoleum, and pushed down on a plaque, which was so old and worn that the words that were once printed on it had worn away, and were no longer legible.  
A panel in the floor slid out, and Frank jumped back in surprise. “Woah,” He said. “Okay, that’s pretty damn cool.” All thoughts of the earlier almost-fight were forgotten, giving way to boyish curiosity.  
“Right?” Gerard replied. “Come on, let's go down,” He said. He started climbing down the old wooden ladder.  
“Hold up,” Frank said. “How old is that ladder? ‘Cause I can’t see how it can hold anyone's weight. It’s gotta be all rotted…”  
“It was made after the original building was made. Like the 40s or something. But it doesn’t even matter, we’re dead,” Gerard scoffed. “We have no weight.”  
“Oh, yeah,” Frank conceded, sighing. “I still don’t get any of this crap. We don’t have any weight, technically we don’t even exist, but we can still move stuff? What’s with that?”  
“Well,” Gerard said, pausing in his descent into the room. “We can’t really move much...pushing that plaque down took a lot of effort, and a lot of ghosts can’t even do that much.”  
“Right, about that…” Frank said. “I can pretty much do, well, anything. Not always. But a couple of times I have. That’s not normal?”  
“Well…” Gerard deliberated. “No, but everyone’s different. Maybe that’s just your thing.” He began to climb down once more, Frank close behind him. The room was dark; next to none of the light from the above mausoleum made it far into the deep recess, and there were no discernible shapes passed the square of wooden floor directly below the open hatch. After a few seconds, Gerard hit the floor with silence, followed by Frank.   
“Hold on,” Gerard said. “There’s a light switch somewhere--aha! Found it!” Gerard said. The sound of a generator kicked up, and fluorescent lights bathed the room, showing Gerard’s triumphant expression. The trap door slid shut, leaving them shut off from the world outside. The walls were pretty bare, but when Frank looked up at the ceiling, he was shocked at what he saw. The ceiling had been painted to make a detailed mural that was equal parts eerie and beautiful. It depicted a little girl in a graveyard, holding tightly to the hand of The Grim Reaper, as if they were father and daughter. In the background the Way family mausoleum could be seen, and a dark figure was standing outside of it, shrouded in mist.  
Gerard looked up as well. “Yeah, I never really understood that painting. It gives me goosebumps.”  
Glancing away at the rest of the room, Frank realized that it must have been found by other people before, but that no one living had been in there for years. The floors were dusty, undisturbed by Frank and Gerard’s footsteps, so he knew that it had been a while, but there were obvious signs of previous entry. There was an old ipod sitting in a corner, charging, and somebody had drawn a sharpie rendition of Chewbacca and Han Solo in one of the room's corners. A bookshelf on one end of the room was filled with classics, but stacked messily on one of the shelves were twenty or so worn comic books, with everything from Watchmen to The Dark Knight Returns.   
“Gerard,” Frank gasped in awe. “Oh my god, this is amazing!” He rushed over to the bookshelf, and looked at the comic books that were on top. “You like comics?” He asked Gerard.  
“Hell yeah,” Gerard replied. “I brought those here when I was still alive.”  
“You found this when you were still living?” Frank asked,  
Gerard rolled his eyes. “No, I just summoned these books to appear here. Yeah, and I just made the ipod. Sure.”  
Frank looked at the ancient mp3 player again, and laughed. “That thing is literally so old. People can play music on their phones now.”  
“Their cell phones?” Gerard replied. “Phones can play music now?”  
“Yeah,” Frank said, giggling. “You can do anything from your cellphone nowadays. Take pictures, go on the internet, play video games, pretty much anything. So, what’dya got on that brick of yours over there?”  
Gerard rolled his eyes. “Okay, this was like, cutting edge technology in 2005. It has like 60 Gigabytes storage and everything.”   
“Whatever you say, old man.” Frank said, still laughing.  
“I don’t have the strength to check it right now, but there's something like eight hundred songs on there, um, there’s some Bowie, The Smiths, The Smashing Pumpkins, um, Black Flag? Do you like them?”  
“Duh,” Frank replied. “But do you have anything, like, not from forty years ago?”  
Gerard thought for a moment. “Well, Fall Out Boy? And Brand New, I guess. You’ve gotta know them. But, like, I’ve been dead for a decade, man. ‘New’ to me is anything from like 2004.”  
Frank sat down against the wall next to Gerard. “This is weird,” He said. “I’m still not used to this whole ‘dead’ thing. And I don’t wanna be here forever, man. I wanna get out, I at least wanna die properly, instead of hanging out in this stupid form.”  
“Well,” Gerard pondered. “I man, if you figure out what’s keeping you from leaving, whatever ‘unfinished business’ you have, you can complete it and then leave. I think that’s how it works.”  
Frank processed Gerard’s words for a minute, then turned excitedly to face him. “I think I know what I have to do!” He told the black-haired boy.  
“Really?” Asked Gerard, intrigued. “What?”  
“Well, you know how my death wasn’t really my fault? It was that Mikey kid I told you about?”  
Gerard didn’t like where this was going, but still he nodded, prompting Frank to continue.  
“I need to get back at him! That’s why I’m still here!” Frank exclaimed.  
“Um, Frank,” Gerard said hesitantly. “Revenge isn’t a good idea. Actually, even if it was a good idea, you can’t even leave the graveyard, so it’s impossible.”  
Frank sat back against the wall, realizing how implausible the whole thing was. Then something changed, in his eyes and face. “We’ll see,” He said, standing up.  
“Um, Frank, there’s nothing to ‘see’ about it. What you want to do is literally impossible--”  
“Just open the damn door. I need to get out.” Frank said.  
Sighing, Gerard flipped the lightswitch in the room, triggering the trap door above them to slide open. Wasting no time, Frank climbed the ladder to get out, Gerard struggling to keep up with him.  
“Frank!” Gerard called after him. “Wait up! What even are you trying to do?” Frank didn’t let up his pace, and Gerard fell even more behind when he had to stop and close the entrance to the room below the mausoleum.   
Still chasing after Frank, Gerard soon realized that Frank was headed toward the cemetery gates. “Dude, you’re not gonna be able to do anything,” Gerard yelled, but he wasn’t so sure. He had seen Frank do some crazy things, especially when he was angry.  
Frank came to a halt, about three feet from the open gate, to let Gerard catch up. “Do you think I can do it?” Frank asked, not glancing away from the exit.  
“No,” Gerard replied, confused. “There’s no way out. Sometimes people can go passed the gates, but only barely, and never such a new ghost--”  
Frank stepped forward. One more step and he would be through. “I don’t feel any resistance…” He said, testing the boundary with his foot.  
“Sometimes people can go passed the gates, I told you.”  
Frank took another step. He was through. Gerard followed him, but he could already feel weaker from being so far away from his body, but Frank showed no signs of diminishing strength.  
“Maybe I’ll just keep walking…” Frank said, taking another step. And another. And another. Gerard tried to stay with him, but he could feel himself growing weaker, and he didn’t know how far he could make it. He knew that at any moment, he would be pulled back to the cemetery, but he had to stay with Frank. He had to make sure Frank didn’t hurt anyone, or himself.  
“Frank, I can’t--I can’t keep going. You have to come back with me,” Gerard said.  
“You can go back,” Frank replied. “It’s fine. I can do this on my own.”  
“No, Frank, I--” He was cut off when he felt a wrenching in his chest and stomach, which quickly turned into agonizing pain. Grimacing, he tried to keep walking, but was slow and unsteady, and soon fell to the ground. “Frank, wait!” He managed to say.  
Frank turned around, and for the first time he noticed the pain Gerard was in. “Oh my god…” He said, rushing to help him up. Suddenly, as soon as Frank touched his arm, he felt immensely better.   
“What the…” Gerard muttered. It didn’t make any sense that the pain stopped. Unless...but it was impossible. Only one way to test it. He looked at Frank. “Let go of me,” He said.  
“What?” Frank asked. “You can hardly stand!”  
“I said let go of me!” Gerard said, pushing Frank off. As soon as the contact was lost, Gerard doubled over in pain again. Frank, seeing his pain, helped him up again, and again, the pain went away.  
“Frank?” Gerard said, looking down at the shorter boy. “You can’t let go.. I want to stay with you, and I know you want to be alone but you’re the closest thing I have to a friend, and I’m not leaving. If you let go, then I let go. I let go of staying here, and I’ll get taken back to my body. Please don’t let go.”  
“So I--okay. Okay, I won’t let go. You can count on me.” Frank took Gerard’s hand, and they continued walking. The graveyard was on the edge of town, but it wasn’t that far away from anything. Frank knew that his old high school was probably only half an hour away walking, and that his house was even closer.   
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Gerard said. “What are you even planning on doing?”  
“I’m gonna get back at the guy that caused my death. Duh.”   
“And how are you getting back at him?” Gerard asked.  
“Well...uh...I don’t know. I’ll figure it out once I get there.” Frank replied.  
Gerard nodded in reply, and they continued walking. For Frank it was fairly normal, as he had only been stuck in the cemetery for several weeks, as opposed to several years like Gerard. Gerard could hardly believe that he had made it passed the gates, and he stared wide-eyed at the scenery before him. In the fall, the town they lived in turned red and gold, leaves littering the streets and blowing through the air. And the people! As Gerard and Frank neared more populated areas, more and more people could be seen, and it amazed Gerard. Everyone that came to the cemetery were always sad and somber, and the people in the town were so full of life that Gerard couldn’t help but marvel.   
They kept walking, and Gerard realized that he knew where they were. “We’re...we’re nearing the school, aren’t we?” He asked softly. He had a lot of memories from the local high school, and many of them weren’t so great. Sure, there were the good things, like his art class, but there were far more memories that Gerard would rather have forgotten. There was the time that someone locked him in a supply closet his freshman year, and Gerard screamed for hours to be let out. There was the time he stayed a little too long in the locker room after p.e., and had the bruises to show for it for weeks. He shook his head, trying to bring himself back to the present. Those things didn’t matter anymore.  
The bell rang, and within seconds students came pouring out of the building. “I guess I’ll just wait and try to find him when he comes out…” Frank said, unsure of his plan. The two boys stood still, carefully watching the front doors of the school. Frank knew that Mikey would have to come out of teh front doors, as it was the only student-accessible exit in the school due to security reasons, but he knew that there was a chance Mikey wasn’t even in the building, or that he would come out late. The students streamed out, subconsciously avoiding the spot where Gerard and Frank were standing.   
A jolt shot through Frank when he saw the familiar glasses and haircut of the boy that caused his death. Nudging Gerard, he whispered, “There! That’s him!”  
“You don’t have to whisper, dude,” Gerard replied. He looked where Frank was violently pointing to, and his eyes widened as his blood ran cold. This wasn’t some stranger. This was the boy that had found Gerard lying face down on the bathroom floor, ten years earlier. This was the boy that Gerard had told stories and played with, and occasionally yelled at to leave him alone. Gerard had thought that the names were a coincidence, after all Mikey was a fairly common name, but no, the boy standing before him was no other than Mikey Way, Gerard’s brother. He didn’t know what to do. Mikey was Gerard’s brother, but Frank was Gerard’s friend. He knew that whatever Mikey did, it was for a good reason, but he knew that he had to stay with Frank.   
“Come on, let’s follow him,” Frank said, pulling Gerard, who didn’t budge. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? We have to follow him!” Frank said, more urgently than before.  
“I--I can’t,” Gerard stuttered.  
“Why the hell not?” Asked Frank.  
“Frank,” Gerard replied. “That’s my brother.”  
Frank’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Your brother?” He asked. After a pause, he continued with, “But like, you know what he did, right? You do realize he murdered me, right?”  
Gerard glared at him. “He didn’t murder you, you fricking drama queen! He got back at you for doing something bad to someone he loved. He had every reason to do what he did!”  
“Yeah, but what he did made me die!” Frank retorted. “I have every right to get revenge on him!”  
Gerard pulled as far away from Frank as he could, but it wasn’t very far, considering he had to continue holding hands with him. “Okay, but you...I don’t even wanna know what you did! Maybe you deserved it!” He yelled.  
Frank gasped. “You think I deserved to die?” He whispered dangerously. “I was eighteen. I had my entire life ahead of me--”  
“So did I!” Gerard said, cutting Frank off. “Does that make me want to get revenge on anyone who had even the slightest bit to do with my death? No! You’re insane, Frank.”  
“You know what? I’m done with you. I’m gonna let go of your hand, and you can go back to that ridiculous graveyard, and you can never talk to me again.”  
Fear clouded Gerard’s eyes. He wasn’t even sure if he could go back to the cemetery from this distance. For all Gerard knew, he would be catapulted into the ether of the universe, or possibly just torn to shreds. Whatever death was for ghosts, he knew that that would probably be what he got if he were to lose contact with Frank.   
“No, you can’t just do that!” Gerard said frantically.  
“Oh, but I will, watch me,” Frank said. He looked down at their hands. Gerard’s knuckles were white from gripping Frank’s hand so tightly, and Frank’s hand was almost completely limp. With his other hand, Frank began to pry Gerard’s fingers away, and Gerard held on tightly to Frank’s arm.   
After a few moments of struggling, Frank sighed, stopping the fight. “I’m not going to do it.”  
Gerard cocked his head in confusion. He wasn’t going to do it? Why?  
Frank smiled ruefully. “I’d miss you. You’re annoying and a crybaby and your brother is a complete jerk, but I’d miss you if you left. I can’t do that to you.”  
Gerard pondered that for a minute, then lowered his eyebrows in annoyance. “You and your fricking mood swings. I’m still not letting you touch my brother, so if you’re still planning on exacting your ‘revenge’ or what-frickin’-ever, then you can let go right here because I will never be okay with that.   
Frank ran his free hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m not letting go, but I’m not giving up on getting back at him for killing me. I told you, this is my ‘unfinished business’. If I do this, I might get to move on.”  
Gerard turned away, disappointed. “This isn’t right, and this isn’t what it takes to move on. It doesn’t make any sense to just add more evil to the world, and it sure as hell wouldn’t make you any more likely to pass on. Whatever your purpose is, it isn’t revenge.”  
“But--but it has to be?” Frank asked hesitantly. “I mean, what else could there be? All I can think about his how everything was his fault, that’s gotta mean something…”  
Gerard looked at Frank again, this time with a renewed sense of energy. “Frank, what if that’s it? What if what you need to do to move on is to let go? If you just admit to yourself that it wasn’t MIkey’s fault, then maybe you can move on!”  
“But it was his fault!”  
“Was it really, though?”  
Frank thought back to all the events that eventually led to his death. If he hadn’t done some things he knew he shouldn’t have done, then Mikey would have never slipped that drug into his drink. Hell, if Frank hadn’t decided to drive drunk that night, he probably would never have been in the position to get in a car crash anyway.  
“Well…” He said.  
“Frank, be honest with yourself.” Gerard prompted. “Was it really all MIkey’s fault?”  
“No…” Frank replied slowly. “No, it wasn’t,” He continued, with more confidence. “It was me. I died because of me.”  
Suddenly the air around him filled with light, and he started to fade out. “It worked!” He cried. “You were right!” Frank pulled a bewildered Gerard into a tight hug. “You did it, Gee!” He said. “You helped me.”  
Gerard grinned, but his grin was tinged with sadness. Not only was Frank going to leave him, Gerard knew that as soon as he faded out completely, Gerard would probably die, or at least die as much as someone already dead could possibly die. Frank was almost gone, but it was obvious that he couldn’t see Gerard’s growing distress. Frank was fading quickly, and Gerard wasn’t ready for whatever came next.   
As the last traces of Frank’s smile faded, Gerard could only brace himself. The light faded, and Gerard braced himself for...nothing. Gerard felt nothing. He looked up, glancing about himself wildly to see if anything around him had changed, but there was nothing. The only difference was that he was now alone. A breeze blew through, and Gerard found himself shivering, as he was only wearing a t-shirt. He put his hands in his pockets, and only after a few moments realized how odd it was that he could feel the chill. Experimenting, he kicked a discarded plastic water bottle lying on the floor, and watched as it skittered across the sidewalk.   
“Hey, you!” Someone yelled. “No loitering allowed!”  
Gerard swiveled around, to see a middle-aged woman walking out of the school building. Gerard glanced around, but seeing nobody but himself in the nearby vicinity, he looked back at the woman. “Me?” He asked, pointing at himself.  
“Yeah, you!” She replied bitterly.  
“You--you can see me?” Asked Gerard, still not sure what was happening.  
“What have you been smoking, young man? Of course I can see you. Now get out of here!” She replied, walking passed him.  
Gerard grinned. He didn’t know what just happened, but he was fine with that. He set off walking to where he remembered his old house to be. He had someone he wanted to talk to again.


End file.
